


Pomegranate Good

by plush_anon



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: BlackIce, Companionable Snark, Frottage, Gratuitous Smut, Hickeys, M/M, Neck Worship, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Temperature Play, gratuitous descriptions, gratuituous everything really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6152419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plush_anon/pseuds/plush_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Pitch was a mess of attractive qualities. His shifting eyes, dancing from gold to silver rapidly in the night depending on the mood. His hair, thick and sleek, like crow feathers. His hands, his waist, his mouth (and the glorious sounds that came out of it), those legs…</p>
<p>But what drove Jack especially wild was the long, slender expanse of grace that was Pitch Black’s neck."</p>
<p>Neck worship smut for your reading pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pomegranate Good

Delirious gasps echoed throughout the cavern, as two bodies smacked back against a slanted stone wall. Long, elegant fingers were fisted in a tangle of white, grey spiders exploring and tickling at the icy scalp of the winter spirit, who was currently playing Parisian with the Nightmare King’s wicked tongue.

These little forays of theirs were a naughty little secret, one that Jack was more than happy to keep. He couldn’t imagine what the other Guardians might say if they ever saw him - let alone what they would do for such a "betrayal".

However, he would know how to answer them if they ever asked why.

Pitch was a mess of attractive qualities. His shifting eyes, dancing from gold to silver quicker than a tango in the night (depending on the mood). His hair, thick and sleek like crow feathers. His hands, his waist, his mouth (and the glorious sounds that came out of it), those legs…

But what drove Jack especially wild was the long, slender expanse of grace that was Pitch Black’s neck.

Luckily for the newest Guardian, it drove the older spirit just as wild when he put his chilly lips against the dark flesh.

Speaking of which… he grinned as he moved down, heart thrumming in his chest at the little whine that barely escaped unnoticed from the depths of Pitch’s throat. He nuzzled into the crook of the bogeyman’s jaw, and got to work.

Screw the pyramids. That neck was the eighth wonder of the world.

Jack’s teeth glinted in the faint light of the cavern as he bit down, barely wincing as sharp nails dug into his back and a choked sob tore by his ear. He went up and down, sometimes dragging his teeth along the flesh as slowly as he could, trying to match the hitches he heard in Pitch’s breath. One hand went down to grope at the thigh ensconced in shadow, while the other went to town brushing and pressing down on the little marks he’d made in passing. He felt Pitch swallow, and in a second latched on to the adam’s apple, lips twitching upwards when he was nearly bucked off. He relented momentarily, before moving up to the jaw, suckling at the flesh as if it were a pomegranate, juicy and fresh. He doubted that Persephone had ever tasted such sweetness.

(Huh. There was a thought. Maybe he could get close enough to ask her now...)

Jack’s hand moved from the quivering thigh to the erect mass straining at the darkness that contained it, his palm rolling over the tip while his tongue played along the curve of that sharp jaw, placing light kisses on the earlobe before descending again. A set of sharpened fangs latched onto the winter spirit’s ear, tugging in a desperate attempt to regain control. A knee quickly speared Pitch’s legs apart, and wicked cold hands grasped his hips and pulled them forward.

Spidery hands moved from hair to buttocks as the two began to move, thrusting haphazardly against each other. Blackened lips sputtered incoherent pleas and praises as the Nightmare King’s head rolled back, eyes fluttering rapidly between gold and grey as he danced on the cusp of a guilty, sticky pleasure.

So close…

Jack blew a delicate filigree of frost across the straining expanse of flesh, heavy-lidded eyes watching Pitch tremble. He nipped at the swirls of ice, tongue sticking momentarily to a particularly thick patch. A laughed bubbled out unexpectedly as he thought of what he would do if he were stuck to Pitch, forever latched at his neck. (Oh, what wouldn’t he do?)

A tightness coiled in his gut, and the winter spirit came in messy spurts before he fully realized what was happening. He hovered, lost in bliss for a moment until sharp heels dug into his back. Pitch was still waiting, still writhing against his hips for release.

Well, it wouldn’t do to leave the poor man hanging.

Jack descended upon the man’s weak spot - his collarbone - and attacked it with glorious fervor, sucking, biting, tugging at the skin with his teeth, a trail of saliva left glistening until his fingers danced over them, leaving beautiful cold behind. Another hand went below, pinching and twisting at the nipples, caressing the slender sides, squeezing that fine taut piece of tail while those endless limbs dangled just under his arms.

One final suckle, and the Nightmare King plummeted over the fine line he danced upon with a resounding cry. He shuddered, wordlessly forming the Guardian’s name on his tongue as he panted, and finally laid still against the stone.

The echoes faded, leaving the sound of two spirits struggling to catch their breath and their composure.

Jack looked over the work of art he had left behind, and smiled. That long, beautiful expanse of neck was liberally swabbed with large bruises, purple and stark. His icy filigree still lingered here and there, and he pressed his tongue to them, slowly, luxuriously, sweeping the slate-colored skin clean.

Pitch moaned at the cool intrusion, as he lowered his still-shaking legs back to the floor. “You are so fascinated with that, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” Jack chirped, and he nipped at the older spirit’s ear playfully. “But how can I not be, when you make sounds like that?”

“Like what?” Pitch widened his eyes ‘innocently’. “I don’t recall making any noise whatsoever. You must be mistaken - or maybe your hearing is going, given how much ice you have stuffed between your ears.”

“Oh please,” he scoffed. “You make more noise than a kangaroo stuck in the snow.”

Golden eyes narrowed. “I rather resent that, Frost.”

“Yeah, yeah. But that’s why I like to say it. It makes you irritated, and you happen to be rather sexy when you’re irritated.”

Pitch smiled as he looked away, cheeks lightly dusted with lavender. “I highly doubt that.”

“It’s true!”

“If that’s true, then I taste like happiness and cotton candy.”

“Really? Well, I better make sure. You didn’t taste like that a minute ago.”

“FROST!! Don’t you dare to-mmmph…” He melted into the icy figure’s embrace, as teeth clacked together and tongues swirled. They came up for air a few minutes later, panting and flushed. Jack laughed, and bopped Pitch across the brow with his staff, sweeping white powder over his brow.

“Well, you don’t taste like cotton candy. But I did feel happier after that, so I AM right!”

Pitch scoffed as he shook the snow from his hair. “Hmmm, if you say so. You’d better go, Frost. I think that’s enough for one day.”

“Same time next week then?”

“That sounds acceptable, yes.” They untangled themselves, and Pitch led Jack to the entrance of his lair, now in Greenland. A lonely frozen expanse, it was a fair compromise for the two when meeting up.

“You don’t need to walk me to the entrance, y'know. I can handle myself just fine.”

“Call it an odd quirk of mine, making sure you leave safely - in case the rest of your little club tries to blame me if they find you injured.”

“Uh huh. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you get to watch my glorious ass as I fly away?”

“Oh look, here we are.”

“That’s not an answer, Pitch.”

“Well it’s the only one you’re going to get, so shut up and kiss me goodbye.”

“Touch-y,” Jack smirked, but he complied, flying up and pulling the Bogeyman closer for a goodbye kiss. It was sweet and lush, rather like pomegranate juice, and it ended all too soon. Pitch looked up at him, fondness glinting in his eyes. 

“Do be careful when you behave like an idiot. I wouldn’t want to see you too badly hurt now.”

“Aww, you do care.” He nipped at his nose before flying off, his mind already brimming with new ideas and designs for Pitch’s neck next week. But his smile split into a grin as he heard Pitch’s words follow behind him on the wind.

“More than you know, Jack. More than you know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Some of you may recognize me from the rotg_kink forums on Dreamwidth, others may know me from Tumblr. Overall, I am Plush-Anon, and I have decided to re-edit and collect my fanworks into one cohesive location. 
> 
> This piece was a response to a prompt on the rotg_kink posted by Sumi-Sprite, a wonderful fanficker on ff.net, who requested neck worship with Pitch and... well, anyone, really. So this was my response. I hope you liked it!


End file.
